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HEATH SUPPLEMENTARY READERS 







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Copyright, 1931, 

By Hortense G. Maguire 

No part of the material covered by this 
copyright may be reproduced in any form 
without written permission from the publisher. 

3 F 1 





PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

©CIA 40394 

JUL 17 1931 



PREFACE 


The story of little Peter and his task has been read 
and loved by French children for many years, but it has 
never before been published in English translation as a 
supplementary reader for the fourth and fifth grades. 

The difficulties encountered by ten-year-old Peter in 
discharging his man-sized task, and his bravery in 
meeting and overcoming them will furnish engrossing 
reading for other boys and girls. 

The material has been somewhat abridged from its 
original lengthy form in order that the story might 
move more rapidly and directly to its thrilling conclu¬ 
sion, and certain details have been adapted to the 
understanding of American children. No undue liber¬ 
ties have been taken with the text, however, and an 
earnest effort has been made to retain the inimitable 
freshness and charm of the French story teller. 

Vocabulary and sentence structure have been care¬ 
fully checked against recognized standards, to the end 
that the story may be read with ease and enjoyment by 
children of the grades for which it is intended. 

In interest of content and originality of style Little 
Peter's Task would seem to deserve a place beside such 
recognized children’s classics, in translation, as Pinocchio , 
The Story of a Donkey , and Heidi . 


H. G. M. 








CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. An Attic Home. 3 

II. On The Way to Paris. 16 

III. Alone.27 

IV. Little Prince Charming.41 

V. A New Life.52 

VI. Vacation Plans. 62 

VII. At the Farm.66 

VIII. At The Seashore.73 

IX. The Accident.81 

X. Brothers.91 


v 

















LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

He Began to Climb Down . 2 

“I Think You Are Going to Travel Alone to 

Paris”. 9 

Peter Began to Look About at the Other Pas¬ 
sengers .17 

“You Wait Here,” Said One of the Men. “Fll 

Get Our Tickets”.21 

He Plunged His Hand into His Pocket — It Was 

Empty! .25 

“That’s Not the Way to Play Marbles. Look 

Here!”.31 

“Ho There, My Boy! You Can’t Sleep in My Hay! 

Get Up!”.36 

Maurice Came at His Father’s Bidding.49 

Peter Disliked These Evenings Very Much. His 

Aunt Never Played with Him .59 

The Pichons Were Waiting in the Yard to Welcome 

Their Guests .67 

Maurice Would Invent Great Adventures — Once 

They Met a Whale! .75 

The Children Brought Him Their Playthings . . 95 


vii 
















LITTLE PETER’S TASK 



He Began to Climb Down. 














CHAPTER I 
An Attic Home 

In the old French village of St. Nazaire, at the 
mouth of the Loire River, lived a ten-year-old 
boy named Peter Delsart. Peter’s father was 
dead, and his mother worked very hard to sup¬ 
port herself and her little son. She sewed from 
morning till night, and Peter had often seen her 
cry. He helped her every day after school, and 
was so brave and good that the neighbors called 
him a “little man.” 

Peter and his mother were very poor, and they 
lived in the attic of a large old house in a narrow, 
dirty street. Sometimes they were cold, and 
often they had little to eat, but mother and son 
loved each other so much that they did not mind 
all their hardships. 

But one day Peter’s mother was very sick, 
and in less than a week the poor woman died. 
Peter could not understand what had happened 
— it did not seem possible that he should never 
hear his mother’s voice again. All the neighbors 

3 


4 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

felt sorry for the little orphan, but they were 
poor working people and could do nothing to help 
him . They could not even go to the cemetery 
with him on the day of the funeral — it was a 
week-day, and they must work! 

It was raining hard as Peter set out alone on 
this sad trip, and even if one is a “little man,” 
one is still a child at ten. Walking along in the 
rain, Peter said to himself that he was now quite 
alone in the world. What was going to become 
of him? Shaking with sobs, he thought again 
and again, “Who will love me now? Who will 
take care of me? Who will get me something 
to eat?” You would have pitied him and 
thought it a shame that the poor mother had 
not been able to take this heartbroken child 
with her. 

After the last pathetic services were over, 
Peter turned his steps toward home. It had 
stopped raining, and suddenly the bright June 
sun peeped from behind the clouds. Perhaps it 
was the effect of the warm sunshine, but Peter 
felt a little better. He no longer wanted to be 
dead beside his mother. He thought that after 
all it was good to be alive. 


AN ATTIC HOME 


5 

A little light-haired girl who often played with 
him had been waiting for him on the steps of the 
shabby old house. She ran to meet him, and 
threw her chubby arms around his neck. 

“Oh, Peter,” she said, “the doctor said that he 
wanted to speak to you. He wanted you to wait 
for him in the bedroom. Shall I wait with you? ” 

“Yes.” 

Peter said no more. He was content to feel 
that Mary was beside him. 

The children went hand in hand into the bed¬ 
room and sat together on an old trunk. They 
did not say a word for a long time — somehow 
it seemed to them that they ought to be quiet. 

The little room was neat, but almost bare. 
There was only one old chair in it, besides the 
bed; but through the open window the chil¬ 
dren could see a bit of the sky, quite blue now, 
and some swallows flying about, singing their 
happy little songs. 

“Will you have something to eat?” asked 
Mary, taking from her pocket a piece of bread 
and a chocolate bar. 

Peter had eaten nothing since morning, and 
the chocolate smelled good, but he did not know 


6 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

whether one ought to be hungry when one is 
very sad. He shook his head slowly. 

Mary smiled at him gently and broke off a 
piece of the bread and half of the chocolate bar. 
She put them into his hand, and he could not 
resist. The two children sat quietly side by side 
and ate their lunch. 

“What do you suppose the doctor wants of 
you?” asked Mary. 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Peter. 
“Perhaps he has found some work for me. I am 
very strong for my age, you know, and I must 
earn my living now.” 

His voice trembled as he thought of his 
mother and of all that she had done for 
him, and his tears fell on the bread. The 
poor child was crying and eating at the same 
time. 

“Look out for your tears, Peter!” exclaimed 
Mary. “ Don’t let them drop on the chocolate.” 

Mary spoke so seriously that Peter had to 
smile, and Mary laughed aloud. Then they 
stopped, ashamed, and finished their lunch in 
silence. 

The doctor found them sitting on the trunk, 


AN ATTIC HOME 


7 


picking up the crumbs that had fallen on Mary’s 
apron. They were still hungry. 

“Ah, there you are, my boy. I have some¬ 
thing to say to you, and I must hurry, for I 
have sick people to visit. Mary, run away! 
Quickly!” 

Mary was disappointed, and she made such a 
wry face that the doctor had to smile. 

Peter whispered, “ I will tell you everything.” 

“Everything?” 

“Yes, I promise.” 

Mary went out of the room, a comer of her 
apron in her mouth. 

“Come here, my little man,” said the doctor, 
sitting on the chair and drawing Peter to him. 
“How old are you?” 

“Ten years and five months, doctor.” 

“Good! That’s the way to speak up. Are 
you a brave boy? Do you get afraid easily?” 

Peter thought. His mother had taught him 
always to tell the truth and the whole truth. 

“I am not afraid of bigger boys, but some¬ 
times I am afraid in the dark. Mama used to 
laugh at me, but she was braver than I.” 

“I don’t blame her for laughing at you. Of 


8 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

course you can bump against furniture in the 
dark and perhaps hit your nose — that’s all. 
But I am not going to send you into the dark. 
I think you are going to travel alone to Paris. I 
wonder if you could keep your head in a crowd, 
ask your way, and act wisely if something unex¬ 
pected should happen to you on the trip. Think 
hard.” 

“ I think I could do that. Mama sent me on 
all her errands. She always said that I was a 
real little man.” 

“ Well, my child, since you are a little man, I 
am going to tell you all that your mother told 
me before she died. Imagine, if you can, that 
she is speaking to you. You must try to under¬ 
stand and to do what you think she would want 
you to do. Do you remember your father? ” 

“Yes, indeed, sir! He had a soft voice and 
white hands.” 

“Well, Peter, this is the story of your father, 
and it is not a very happy one. He had an elder 
brother, an ambitious boy, who did not want to 
be a farmer like his father. This elder brother 
went to Paris and began to make his way 
there. He sent for his younger brother — your 



“I Think You Are Going to Travel Alone to Paris.” 






















































































































































































10 


LITTLE PETER’S TASK 


father — and gave him a fine education, but 
this younger lad liked good times too well. He 
wanted pleasure, amusement, gaiety, and went 
about with a crowd of rich young people, though 
he himself was poor — always an unwise thing 
to do. One night he played cards for money and 
lost. He kept on playing to win back his money, 
but he lost still more. Then, since he had to pay 
somehow, he stole a large sum of money from 
his employer.” 

“That is not true!” cried little Peter in dis¬ 
tress. “My father was not a thief!” 

“Your mother told me this, so that I might 
tell you,” said the doctor gently. “She couldn't. 
Cry, my child, and you will feel better. But 
listen to the rest of the story, and you will pity 
your father instead of blaming him. 

“The employer went to the elder brother, who 
by this time had become well known as a lawyer, 
and told him about the affair. It was a choice be¬ 
tween disgrace or ruin for the elder brother, and 
he chose ruin. To pay the sum, he gave every¬ 
thing he had and even went into debt, but on the 
condition that his younger brother leave France 
at once. 


AN ATTIC HOME 11 

“The boy went away and never saw his elder 
brother again, but during the years that fol¬ 
lowed he dreamed of only one thing — of mak¬ 
ing up for his mistake, of being forgiven. 

“ He went to America, where he hoped to make 
his fortune, but where he nearly starved to death. 
Then he wanted so much to see France again 
that he worked his passage back across the 
ocean on a freight ship. The vessel landed him 
at St. Nazaire, and he lived here for the rest of 
his life. 

“He had a beautiful handwriting; so he easily 
found work as a clerk. One of his neighbors was 
a young dressmaker, who tried to comfort the un¬ 
happy young man, and later became his wife. 
She encouraged him to try to make up for his 
mistake — for he had told her the whole sorry 
story before they were married. He dreamed of 
heroic deeds, but was never able to do them, and 
four years ago he died, a broken-hearted man. 
From now on, my child, you must remember 
that he was sorry for what he had done, and for¬ 
get his mistake. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” murmured Peter, choking back 
his sobs. 


12 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

“Now then, this is what your mother wanted 
you to do. The task your father was unable to 
do you are charged to do for him. She wanted 
you to go to find your uncle.” 

“But if he didn’t want to see Papa again, why 
should he care to see me? He doesn’t even know 
me, and I should have to go to him as a beggar. 
No, doctor, please find some work for me and let 
me stay here.” 

“You may do as you wish. These were your 
mother’s wishes, not her orders. I offered to 
write to your uncle, but she did not want me to 
do so. She thought, poor soul, that a letter 
would bring back the sad past, but that if he 
saw you he would love you. It seemed to her so 
easy to love you! She believed that later you 
would find a way of paying your father’s debt 
and your own.” 

“ I will do everything that she wanted me to,” 
said Peter, drying his tears. 

“Very well, Peter, I will take you home with 
me to-night. I have spoken of you to some 
of my rich patients, and they have given 
me money enough for your trip to Paris. 
When you get there, you must ask some one 


AN ATTIC HOME 13 

where Mr. Peter Delsart lives. His name is the 
same as yours; so you can remember it easily. 
Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well, come along.” 

“ I should like to say good-by to Mary and the 
others.” 

“So you must, and since you are already a lit¬ 
tle man, I am going to talk to you as a man. 
Your mother’s bills are all paid; the landlord 
took the furniture for what was owed to him. 
Make a bundle of your clothes, say good-by to 
every one who was kind to your mother, and 
then come to my house.” 

And the doctor went away very quickly. 

Mary had been watching to see him leave. 
She returned to the bedroom and found her lit¬ 
tle playmate making a bundle of his clothes. It 
was a very small bundle, indeed. 

Peter told her that he was going to Paris, 
where his uncle lived, but he did not dream of 
telling her what his father had done. Of that 
he would never speak, though he would think of 
it always. He would do so well, be so brave and 
so wise, that the past would be forgotten! 


14 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

All the neighbors bade him good-by and gave 
him their best wishes. Mary’s mother gave him 
a shiny new piece of silver. Mary cried be¬ 
cause she had nothing to give the little traveler; 
then quickly she ran to her play corner and 
brought a tiny china doll. She loved this doll 
very much, and she tucked it into Peter’s bun¬ 
dle without saying a word. 

The doctor’s children — there were four of 
them — took charge of Peter as soon as he ap¬ 
peared. At first no one knew just what to say, 
and they all sat and looked at one another. 

Then the eldest, who was a year older than Pe¬ 
ter, said to him, “Do you know how to play 
marbles?” 

Peter knew very well how to play marbles; 
so the ice was broken. He played better than 
the doctor’s children, and stopped thinking about 
the trip that he was going to make. 

At dinner he had a fine appetite. Everything 
tasted so good! It was the first time he had seen 
a table well set and a fresh white napkin. He 
watched the others and did just as they did. 

After dinner the doctor took down a map 
from the wall and showed Peter the route that 


AN ATTIC HOME 


15 


he was going to take. In the morning the doctor 
would put him on the boat which went to Nan¬ 
tes. There Peter must go to the railroad station 
and buy a third-class ticket to Paris. 

The doctor and his wife counted out the money 
for his trip and told him to be very careful of it. 
Then the doctor's wife put a few pieces of silver 
into a little purse and, ripping open the lining 
of his vest, slipped the purse inside and took a 
few stitches to hold it in place. 

“One never knows what may happen. Per¬ 
haps you will be glad to have these, my child / 9 
she said. 

Peter thanked her very much. It seemed to 
him that the world was full of kind persons. He 
was to learn later that there were others, not so 
kind. 

It had been a hard day for little Peter, and he 
was a tired boy. His good friends put him to 
bed on the sofa in the living room, and he fell 
asleep at once. 


CHAPTER II 


On the Way to Paris 

The next morning was warm and sunny. The 
doctor put Peter aboard the boat and started 
away at once to make his calls. Peter ran after 
him. 

“Oh, doctor!” he cried. “You must think I 
have no manners. I haven’t even thanked you 
for everything. I just don’t know how” — and 
his eyes finished what he was trying to say. 

“Nonsense,” said the doctor. “We under¬ 
stand each other, don’t we? When you are set¬ 
tled at your uncle’s home, you must write me a 
letter. Good-by.” 

The little steamer bobbed about merrily on 
the waves. In the yellowish water there were 
little frothy bubbles like soapsuds, amusing to 
watch. Peter had never been on a boat before, 
and at first he felt a bit dizzy. But he soon got 
used to the motion, and with wide eyes watched 
the pretty green shore and the waves. 

He was beginning a long journey, and he was 
16 


ON THE WAY TO PARIS 


17 



Peter Began to Look About at the Other Passengers. 
not at all afraid! Of course, sitting quietly by 
himself in a corner of the boat, with money in 
his pocket and a good lunch in his bundle, he 
had nothing to fear. 

After a while he grew tired of watching the 
shore and the water, and began to look about 
him at the other passengers. There were many 
farmers on board, carrying poultry and vege¬ 
tables to sell at Nantes. Baskets full of fish, 
which Peter could smell, were all about the deck. 
There was much talking and laughter, but no one 
noticed the little traveler sitting in the corner. 
This annoyed Peter — he did not like to feel all 
alone in the crowd. 















18 


LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

“Ah!” he thought. “If these people only 
knew that I am going alone to Paris to find my 
uncle, who is a lawyer, they would pay attention 
to me.” 

Peter did not know just what a lawyer was. 
He had heard the doctor say that lawyers wore 
robes. His uncle must be very handsome — it 
certainly was something to be proud of to be the 
nephew of such a man. 

He rose and with his bundle in his hand walked 
back and forth as the others did, his head held 
high. But no one seemed to notice him. 

At eleven o’clock he felt hungry; so he went 
back to his corner, sat down again and ate his 
lunch. Then, to amuse himself, he took his 
money from his pocket and began to count it. 
Never before had he had so large a sum — he 
was very proud. 

By this time the little traveler was being 
watched. Two men who were playing cards on 
a big box near by followed his movements. 
When Peter counted his money, the two players 
exchanged glances. 

Soon they finished their game, rose, and moved 
slowly to Peter’s side. They leaned against the 


ON THE WAY TO PARIS 19 

deck railing and puffed at their bad-smelling 
pipes. The smoke made Peter cough. 

“Ah! You do not like tobacco smoke, my 
boy?” asked one of the men. “You will like it 
when you are a little older.” 

“Oh! The smoke does not bother me, sir,” 
said Peter politely. 

He was pleased to have some one notice him. 

“You must be going to Nantes to stay. I see 
you have a bundle with you,” remarked the sec¬ 
ond man. 

“ I am going farther than that,” replied Peter. 
“ I am going to Paris.” 

“And your parents let you go all alone?” 

“Mama is dead.” The child’s voice trembled. 
“ I am going to find my uncle in Paris. He is a 
lawyer, and he wears a robe.” 

“Listen!” interrupted the man who had 
spoken first. “ We are going to Paris, too. Only 
we are common people. We are going third 
class.” 

“Oh, so am I,” said Peter. “ I haven’t enough 
money to go first class or even second. Is the 
railroad station far from the wharf?” 

“ It is hard to tell you just how to go. You 


20 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

must take one street, then another, turn to the 
right, then to the left —but you may go along 
with us if you wish. We will get your ticket 
when we get ours.” 

“Oh, how good you are! Every one has been 
so kind to me since Mama died!” 

The men began to play cards again, and Peter 
watched them. 

As they approached Nantes, there was a 
great bustle on the boat. Peter was afraid of 
all the noise. He held tightly to his bundle, and 
did not take his eyes off his new acquaintances. 
He was glad that he had found friends. With¬ 
out them he should have been confused in such a 
crowd. 

At last the town came into sight. It was more 
beautiful than St. Nazaire. Peter already felt 
much nearer Paris. Paris must be like Nantes, 
but larger and still more noisy. 

The boat pulled up at the wharf, the gang¬ 
plank was thrown out, and the passengers filed 
off two by two. Peter’s two “protectors” were 
used to crowds. They pushed their way along 
skillfully. One of them glanced behind him. 

“Are you coming, little one?” he asked. 



“You Wait Here,” Said One of the Men. “I’ll Get 

Our Tickets.” 












































































22 


LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

“Oh, yes, sir,” answered Peter. 

Little legs made a great effort to keep up with 
long legs. The two men exchanged smiles and spoke 
in a language that Peter did not understand. 

Soon they left the main street. Peter thought 
the station must be far away, indeed, for his 
“friends” led him through many small streets. 
Finally they came to a park and found benches. 

“You two wait here,” said one of the men. 
“The station is nearby. I’ll get our tickets for 
the next train.” 

Peter wondered why they did not all go to the 
station, but he did not dare to say anything; so 
he sat quietly beside the other man. 

Many persons were walking about under the 
trees: mothers held their little ones by the 
hand, and other children made sand piles under 
the eyes of their nurses. Peter enjoyed watch¬ 
ing them, and the time passed quickly. 

Soon the man who had gone to get the tickets 
came back. He seemed to be very much an¬ 
noyed, and he cried out: 

“No luck! There is a train to-night, but it is 
for rich people — it has no third-class cars. We 
shall have to wait until to-morrow morning.” 


23 


ON THE WAY TO PARIS 

Peter could have cried. What was he going 
to do? Where should he spend the night? His 
lower lip began to tremble. 

“Don’t cry, little one!’’ said one of his com¬ 
panions. “You shall stay with us, and we’ll all 
leave to-morrow on the first train.” 

“Thank you — but I want to go to-night.” 

“Take a first-class ticket then, my prince.” 

This mockery was too much for Peter. He 
began to cry. 

“Come, come, don’t do that! We’ll find a 
market and buy something to eat. Then we’ll 
all have dinner together like good friends.” 

Peter was ashamed of being so weak, and 
quickly dried his tears. 

It was great fun when his two companions 
bought bread, cold pork, and two bottles of 
wine, and found a place where they could all sit 
down and eat. They had walked quite a dis¬ 
tance, and were in the country. One of the men 
noticed a bam near by and remarked that they 
should sleep better on the hay than on a bed and 
that it would certainly be good not to have to 
pay for lodgings for the night. 

Peter was glad that he should not have to 


24 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

spend his money. /His walk had made him very 
hungry and thirsty. There was no water, but 
the men said that water was for ducks and wine 
for men; and Peter, to show that he was a man, 
drank a great deal of wine. 

Soon he talked and talked, and did not know 
what he was saying. His head swam. He knew 
that the men carried him to the bam and that 
the hay made a good bed. It tickled his cheeks 
a little, but Peter did not care. He fell at once 
into a deep sleep. 

When he awoke, the sun was shining brightly. 
It was a new day. Peter raised himself on his el¬ 
bow and tried to remember where he was and 
why he had slept on the hay. The sunlight came 
through the cracks in the walls of the old bam. 
Spiders’ webs hung from the beams. 

Peter began to recall what had happened the 
day before, and looked about for his two protec¬ 
tors, but he did not see them. There were no 
marks in the hay to show that they had slept 
there. Gently he called, but there was no an¬ 
swer. He was quite alone. 

He ran out of the bam and called more loudly. 
He saw the spot where they had all eaten the 


ON THE WAY TO PARIS 


25 



He Plunged His Hand into His Pocket — It Was 
Empty! 

night before. Two empty bottles lay on the 
ground, and there was the greasy paper that the 
pork had been wrapped in. That was all. Peter 
was alone in an abandoned field. 

* He could see the roof of a large farmhouse 
through the trees. Probably the farmer would 
be angry if he knew that Peter had slept in his 
bam. Peter shook himself, brushed the hay from 
his hair and clothes, and hurried to the road that 
ran along beside the field. He again looked about 
for his friends, but saw no one. They had cer¬ 
tainly deserted him. 

He saw a watering trough ahead and ran to it 













26 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

to wash his face and hands. As he took off his 
coat, it seemed light. He plunged his hand into 
his pocket — it was empty! 

Peter at last understood that his two “pro¬ 
tectors” were thieves. How was he going to 
Paris, now, to find his uncle? 


CHAPTER III 


Alone 

You may be sure that by this time Peter did 
not feel very brave! As he realized that he was 
quite alone in a strange place, his courage left 
him, and he trembled so much that he had to 
sit down. He tried to collect his thoughts. 
What was the best thing to do? 

If he knew his uncle’s address, he could write 
to him and tell him of his plight. But a letter 
addressed to Mr. Delsart, Paris, would not be 
likely to reach him. Then, how could he wait 
for an answer, and where? Should he write to 
the doctor? No, he could not do that! He was 
ashamed of having been so easily tricked. 

It was clear to Peter that he must find a way 
of getting to Paris without money. It would 
not be easy, but there was no use in crying over 
spilled milk. 

He straightened his clothes, smoothed his 
hair, and felt better. He was thirsty; so he 
drank some fresh, cold water from the watering 
27 


28 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

trough. He picked up a piece of bread left from 
their dinner the night before, and his bundle, 
which the thieves had not bothered to take. As 
he did so, a tiny china doll fell to the ground. 
Peter picked it up, and he seemed to hear his 
little friend Mary say, “Good luck, Peter!” He 
put the doll in his pocket, where his money had 
been. 

There was only one thing to do — walk to 
Paris. It would take a long time, no doubt, but 
he was a good walker. But what should he eat, 
and where should he sleep? 

Then suddenly he remembered the pieces of 
silver that the doctor’s wife had sewed into his 
vest. He scarcely dared to breathe as he felt the 
lining. Ah, they were there! The thieves had 
not found them. 

Peter turned toward the river which he saw a 
short distance away. He did not know much 
geography, but one thing was clear — that if he 
walked up the river, he should surely be going 
away from Nantes. For a time at least, his best 
guide would be the little stream that sparkled so 
joyously in the warm sun. 

In spite of all the hardships that lay before 


ALONE 29 

him, Peter now felt curiously happy. He looked 
up at the birds flying about and thought, “ I am 
as free as you! Like you I am adventuring! 
Like you I find the air pure and the river gay!” 

He walked along with head held high. For 
three hours he marched without stopping. Then 
his courage fell a bit. He was tired and hungry, 
and the sun was very hot. The little traveler lay 
down in the shade of a great tree and was soon 
fast asleep. 

When he awoke, it was late, and he was still 
hungrier. Very, very cautiously he drew one of 
the silver pieces from the lining of his vest, tak¬ 
ing great care that no one saw him — a tardy 
precaution and an unnecessary one, here in this 
deserted spot! Then with a needle and thread 
which he had taken from his poor mother’s work- 
basket, he made a few awkward stitches to sew 
up the lining again. 

“Oh, Mama,” he thought, “you shall see! I 
will do so well that you will be proud of me. I 
promise to be very brave; I promise not to be 
afraid!” 

He felt comforted, and took up the march 
again. Soon he came to a village where he 


30 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

bought some bread. One can live on bread, and 
fortunately Peter had not been brought up to be 
fussy. He sat down on a large rock and ate his 
meager meal. As he ate, he watched some chil¬ 
dren playing near by. 

It was a pretty little village, on the river bank. 
A little farther on were some beautiful farm¬ 
houses, shaded with great trees. 

“Ah,” thought Peter, “if I didn’t have an 
uncle in Paris, I should like to stay always in a 
village like this, working in the fields, taking 
care of the animals.” 

He continued to watch the other children, and 
finally he could keep still no longer. He stuffed 
what was left of the bread into his bundle and 
dashed into the midst of their game crying, 
“That’s not the way to play marbles. Look 
here!” 

The others watched him, and as Peter could 
play marbles very well indeed, all the children 
wanted to be on his side. The game became 
more lively. Peter played so hard that he for¬ 
got all about his uncle, his journey, his great am¬ 
bition — he thought only of the marbles. Other 
children joined the group, and all crowded 


ALONE 


31 



“That’s Not the Way to Play Marbles. 
Look Here!” 


about this newcomer who played so well. Peter 
was very happy. He was proud of his skill. 

But soon it was supper time. Mothers ap¬ 
peared at the doorways of the houses and called, 
“Hallo! Aren’t you hungry? Come to your 
supper while it is hot.” 

Peter remembered that there was no one to 
call him, and sadly he picked up his bundle. He 
would walk a little farther before dark and look 
for a friendly bam to sleep in. If he couldn’t 
find a bam, the grass would have to do. Fortu¬ 
nately the nights are not very cold in June. 

The children had gone home, and the village 







32 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

was quiet. Men were returning from work, tired, 
and no one paid any attention to the little trav¬ 
eler in the middle of the road. Only one boy 
had not gone away — the oldest one of the 
crowd — and he watched Peter curiously. 

“Where are you going to eat your supper?” 
he asked. 

“There is no supper for me,” replied Peter. “I 
have some bread that I shall eat a little later.” 

“Where are you going to sleep?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I am traveling. I am 
going to Paris. I was going on the train, but 
my money was stolen; so now I am walking.” 

This seemed very strange to the older boy. 
He stared at Peter a moment and then turned 
and vanished as if by magic. 

Peter had hoped his new friend would wish 
him luck, but he grasped his bundle firmly and 
again set out on his way. He had not gone 
twenty steps when the other boy reappeared. 

“You may eat supper at my house. Mama 
says you may. She doesn’t like tramps, but you 
aren’t a tramp, are you? Come with me.” 

Peter soon found himself in the kitchen of a 
farmhouse. There was a large family at the ta- 


ALONE 


33 


ble. The cabbage soup smelled good, and his 
new friend saw to it that Peter had a large serv¬ 
ing. 

These good people had him tell his story, and 
he seemed so honest about it all that they be¬ 
lieved him at once — even the farmer’s wife, 
who did not like tramps! The farmer gave him 
some simple directions about what roads to take. 
Peter stayed at this farmhouse all night, and 
the next morning the farmer’s wife put some 
bread and butter in his bundle, so that he would 
not have to spend his money that day, at least. 

Later he remembered the beginning of his 
trip almost as a pleasant holiday. He became 
acquainted with the river and was glad when 
his route took him along its banks. Sometimes 
he stopped to bathe his feet, which were swollen 
from the march. 

He walked on and on, days and nights, in sun¬ 
shine and in rain. At the end of a week the 
weather was very bad, and it was not always 
easy to find shelter at night. Sometimes he 
couldn’t even find an abandoned shed, and then 
he had to go to the village inn and pay for 
lodging. 


34 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

But he never lost hope. Each morning he set 
out bravely. He passed through villages, towns, 
even cities, but he stopped only in the little vil¬ 
lages. He was afraid in the cities. People 
looked at him as though he were a tramp be¬ 
cause he was shabby and was traveling on foot. 
They might arrest him! The poor little fellow, 
who did not know much about such things, hur¬ 
ried through the city streets and felt safer when 
he was in the country, especially when he was 
near the river. 

He was always hungry. He did not dare to 
spend much money; so he bought only a little 
bread each day. Occasionally a kind woman, 
the mother of a family, would notice the pale 
child with the famished eyes and would give him a 
good meal, but he was not often lucky enough to 
be seen by kind mothers. 

Hunger and fatigue finally blurred his mem¬ 
ory. It seemed to him that his life with his poor 
mother in St. Nazaire was years and years be¬ 
fore. He could hardly remember the doctor and 
his four children, and it was only with great dif¬ 
ficulty that he could bring back to his mind the 
little village where he had played marbles. But 


ALONE 35 

one thing he thought of always: he must get to 
Paris and make up to his uncle for his father’s 
mistake. 

Oh, if he had only been more careful when he 
was on the boat! If he had just stayed quietly 
in his comer and had not counted his money! 
If he had not been so vain and had said nothing 
about his uncle who was a lawyer and wore a 
robe! The thieves would not have tricked him. 
He should now be in Paris, his troubles at an 
end. He looked at his ragged clothes, at his 
shoes, which were so worn that his poor bruised 
feet could be plainly seen. Surely his uncle 
would be ashamed of such a nephew, if, indeed, 
he ever reached Paris, and would take him for a 
beggar. 

Finally the day came when Peter had to 
spend his last penny for some bread. He ate 
the bread and wondered what would become of 
him now, but he was so very, very tired that it 
did not seem to matter much. He had tried 
hard to followed his mother’s last wishes, and if 
he should die now — well, it would not be his 
fault. But he trudged along, trembling with 
weakness. 



“Ho There, My Boy! You Can’t Sleep in My Hay! 
Get Up!” 














ALONE 


37 

The poor child could think of nothing but his 
desire for rest. He wished that he could lie 
down and sleep forever. He left the river bank 
and climbed over a fence into a meadow where 
there were some haycocks. Suddenly he felt 
very faint, and the next moment he fell uncon¬ 
scious by one of the stacks of hay, where he lay 
as if he were dead. 

Some men were working in the meadow, which 
belonged to a well-to-do farmer, but they were 
not near this spot. The farmer, Mr. Pichon, hap¬ 
pened to be walking about looking over his prop¬ 
erty, however, and he passed this haycock. 

“Ho there, my boy! You can’t sleep in my 
hay! Get up!” he said. 

He shook the child, but Peter did not stir. 
Then the farmer picked him up in his arms. Six 
months before, he had lost a little son about 
Peter’s age — his only child — and it seemed 
to him that he was holding his own Jean 
again. 

Mr. Pichon was known as a stem man who 
ruled his household with a rod of iron. But no 
woman could have carried a child more tenderly 
than he carried this boy whom he did not know 


38 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

and whom he had intended to drive away, but 

who reminded him of his own little son. 

Mrs. Pichon was standing by some trees near 
the house. As her husband approached, he 
cried: 

“Oh, Mama! Come here! You have always 
told me that if I ever disturbed a bird’s nest on 
the farm, I must bring the little birds to you. 
Well, here is a big bird that has fallen from its 
nest!” 

Mrs. Pichon, astonished, looked at the white¬ 
faced little figure and said, “But he is dead — 
dead, like —” 

“Like our Jean, you mean? He looks like 
Jean, doesn’t he? But he is not dead. His 
heart is beating, but he looks starved.” 

They carried him into the house, and the farm¬ 
er’s wife put him into Jean’s little bed. She 
forced some brandy between his teeth. 

Soon Peter opened his eyes and breathed a 
sigh. He was in a bed, and a woman who made 
him think of his mother was taking care of him. 
He hoped she would not send him away with¬ 
out giving him a little bread. 

“ I am so hungry,” he murmured. 


ALONE 


39 


His new friend gave him some hot milk to 
drink. Then he dropped into a deep, calm sleep. 

When he awoke, it was morning. At first he 
did not know where he was or what had hap¬ 
pened to him. 

But soon the farmer’s wife came into the room, 
and Peter smiled and said, “I almost thought 
yesterday that you were my mother.” 

“Well, my child, I am going to be like your 
mother. Take some of this soup, and then we 
shall have a talk.” 

Peter again told his story, and again he was be¬ 
lieved. 

“And now,” he ended,“I don’t know how to 
go to find my uncle.” 

Mrs. Pichon thought a moment as she looked 
at the child whose life she and her husband had 
saved. 

“Listen, my dear. My husband likes you, 
but he is a stem man, and he does not like any 
one who does not make himself useful. At this 
season we need helpers about the farm. You are 
small, but you could help the men. Tell my 
husband that you want to work, and I am sure 
he will let you. He will pay you, and when you 


40 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

have saved a little money, you can buy a railroad 
ticket to Paris and go to your uncle if you still 
want to. If you don’t, you can stay here, and 
we’ll make a good farmer out of you!” 

So Peter, after a day or two of rest, went to 
work in the fields. He was tired at night, but 
he ate and slept well and was very happy. 
He was tempted to stay always with these 
good people who had rescued him, but he must 
not forget his task. He must go on to Paris. 


CHAPTER IV 


Little Prince Charming 

The sound of gay dance music filled the Del- 
sart home. Outside was the cold, dreary No¬ 
vember afternoon, but inside, among the masses 
of flowers, the gray skies and sharp wind were 
forgotten. Little Maurice Delsart’s tenth birth¬ 
day was being celebrated by a costume party. 

The mothers were seated along the wall of the 
large living room, chatting with one another and 
watching their children. Each mother thought, 
of course, that her child was prettier and more 
beautifully dressed than any other, and each 
mother wanted to tell all the other mothers about 
the amusing things her child had said and done. 
No one listened to what any one else was say¬ 
ing. Each was waiting for the moment when she 
could speak. 

The children were not yet feeling at ease. The 
boys huddled together on one side of the room; 
the girls on the other. Mrs. Delsart went here 
and there, urging the boys to dance. 

41 


42 


LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

“You don’t seem to be having a good time, 
boys. What is the matter? Maurice, you must 
ask one of the little girls to dance.” 

“Yes, Mama.” 

Maurice shyly walked to the other side of the 
room and invited a pretty little dark-haired girl 
to dance. He hoped that she would refuse, but 
she did not, and the two children waltzed about 
with gloomy faces. 

Maurice was a delicate boy with large blue 
eyes and golden hair. He was dressed as Prince 
Charming, in white satin knee-breeches embroi¬ 
dered with silver, a coat of the same material, 
and a cap trimmed with a long, graceful feather. 
Over one shoulder he wore a little cloak — white, 
too, and lined with light blue. But what de¬ 
lighted Maurice most of all was a shining sword 
which hung at his side — only it kept getting 
between his legs and bothering him when he 
danced, and even when he walked. 

As Mrs. Delsart continued to urge the other 
children to dance, her husband appeared in the 
doorway and looked about a moment. 

“Perhaps they are shy because their mothers 
are watching them,” he said. “They would 


LITTLE PRINCE CHARMING 43 
probably rather play games than dance. Come, 
ladies, and have a cup of tea in the dining room, 
and if in ten minutes you are not deafened by the 
noise of these young ones — well, I’ll give the 
cat my tongue!” 

The mothers were gladj to leave their chairs, 
and the living room was left to the children. 
Soon the little ones were playing blindman’s buff 
and drop the handkerchief as merrily as though 
they were dressed in their everyday clothes. 

Mr. Delsart, having made every one feel hap¬ 
pier, was walking through the long reception 
hall on his way to the library to enjoy a cigar. 
He heard the sound of the front door closing, 
and turned to see what it meant. He distin¬ 
guished a child’s voice and the laughter of some 
of the servants. He stopped and listened. 

“ I wish to see Mr. Delsart. I must see him. 
I have come all the way from St. Nazaire. I 
tell you he is my uncle.” 

“Enter the prince,” laughed one of the maids. 

“He doesn’t look much like one,” said an¬ 
other. 

“What is all this noise?” demanded Mr. Del¬ 
sart. 


44 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

The servants were confused. Then one of 
them approached his master. 

“The janitor has let this little ragamuffin in, 
sir. He pretends—” 

The “little ragamuffin” had started to go out, 
but he turned back. He was very pale, and could 
scarcely keep back the tears. 

“Oh, sir, you will listen to me, won’t you? I 
must see Mr. Delsart. I must! I must! I have 
been traveling for months. I have come a long 
way to see him, and now they want to turn me 
away because I am poor and shabby.” 

“Calm yourself, my little man. I am Mr. 
Delsart. What do you want?” 

Peter — for, of course, it was he — was so 
overcome for a moment that he could not speak. 
This was his uncle, the lawyer, who lived in this 
beautiful house and entertained children dressed 
in gold and silver! 

“Well?” said Mr. Delsart with some impa¬ 
tience. 

“Sir — I should like to speak to you alone.” 

Mr. Delsart hesitated, but Peter’s eyes were 
so imploring that he yielded. Without a word 
he led the way to the library and sat down at a 


LITTLE PRINCE CHARMING 45 
huge table covered with papers. Peter stood be¬ 
fore him. His heart beat as though it would 
burst, but he knew that after all he had suffered, 
this was not a time to weaken. 

“My name is Peter Delsart, sir, and I am the 
son of your brother, Maurice Delsart.” 

At this unexpected statement Mr. Delsart 
half rose from his chair; then, sinking back, he 
looked sharply at the child. 

“How can you prove that you are my broth¬ 
er’s son?” 

Peter had not thought of proof. He said 
steadily, “I tell you so, sir, and I have never 
told a lie.” 

His manner was so proud that the lawyer 
could not keep back a smile, and he said more 
kindly: 

“ I don’t want to frighten you, my child, but I 
am a member of a profession which demands 
proof. I had a brother, it is true, but I haven’t 
heard from him for fifteen years.” 

“Ah, sir, I have just learned why my father 
was always so sad. Mama didn’t want to tell 
me, but she asked the doctor, just before she 
died, to tell me all about it. I know you had rea- 


46 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

son to blame him, but I think that if you could 
have seen him, so sad, always trying to find some 
way of earning your forgiveness and never find¬ 
ing any, working hard and getting nowhere — I 
really think, uncle, that you would have for¬ 
given him. My poor father’s only wish was to 
make up for his mistake. I am not very big yet, 
but I am sure that the day will come when I can 
pay you back my father’s debt. Mama charged me 
with that task. I came from St. Nazaire to tell 
you. My money was stolen at Nantes; then I 
traveled on foot. I walked for many weeks with 
nothing; but bread to eat. When I had no more 
bread, I nearly died. Some kind people rescued 
me and took care of me. I earned enough from 
them to make the rest of the trip on the tr ain . 
This morning I found out where you lived, and 
here I am. Do you believe me now, uncle?” 

“Yes, my brave Peter, I believe you. I be¬ 
lieve you without proof! So my poor brother is 
dead, and he gave you my name. Ah, my little 
nephew, I forgave your father a long time ago. 
For years I have tried in vain to find some trace 
of him.” 

And Mr. Delsart took Peter in his arms. Just 


LITTLE PRINCE CHARMING 47 
at that moment Mrs. Delsart opened the door 
and stood looking at the scene, hardly believing 
her eyes. 

“What are you doing here? We have been 
looking everywhere for you, and here you are 
with a little street urchin!” 

Mr. Delsart held Peter’s hand tightly in his 
and said firmly: 

“This ‘ street urchin,’ my dear, is my broth¬ 
er’s son. He is named for me, and I have prom¬ 
ised him that he shall be our second son.” 

“You are crazy!” 

“ Let us leave the question of whether I am crazy 
or not until later, if you please. If you do not 
want my nephew to remain here, I shall provide 
for him elsewhere. But one thing I want you to 
promise — that you will not say anything to our 
son against his cousin. I think I can find some 
clothes of Maurice’s that will fit Peter. Any¬ 
way I can try. Miss Nancy must be in Mau¬ 
rice’s room.” 

Mrs. Delsart bit her lips and said nothing 
more. Peter was sorry to have caused any trou¬ 
ble, and he quietly followed his uncle upstairs. 

Miss Nancy, Maurice’s governess, was sitting 


48 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

at the window reading a book. She rose as Mr. 
Delsart entered the room. Mr. Delsart ex¬ 
plained the situation in a few words, and Miss 
Nancy quickly found what he wanted. 

Maurice's clothes were just right for Peter. 
Miss Nancy had him bathe; then she helped him 
to dress. Peter did not know himself when he 
looked into the mirror. Gone was the ragged 
little vagabond, and in his place stood a beau¬ 
tiful boy with big black eyes and curly hair, 
dressed in a soft, blue woolen sailor suit. 

Mr. Delsart, smiling at the change that had 
taken place, cried gaily, “Now let's see if the 
servants will send you away." 

Solemnly they walked through the hall, where 
the servants bowed respectfully as they passed. 
Mr. Delsart took Peter into the midst of the 
group of children, who had begun to dance. 

“I have brought you a new playmate, my 
little friends," he called. “Come here, Maurice. 
You have often wanted a brother or a sister. 
Well, here is a big brother, whom you will love, 
I am sure. He is your cousin, Peter Delsart." 

All the children stopped dancing at once and 
looked curiously at the newcomer. Peter was 


LITTLE PRINCE CHARMING 


49 



Maurice Came at His Father’s Bidding. 
dazzled by the lights, the bright-colored cos¬ 
tumes embroidered with gold and silver, the 
pink-and-white, golden-haired children. It 
seemed to him that he was entering Fairyland, 
and he was frightened. He clung to his uncle’s 
hand. 

Maurice came at his father’s bidding. He was 
very much astonished. He had often wished for 
a brother, a playmate, and here he was! It was 
too bad that he was not a little smaller, but he 
would do very well. Maurice was an affection¬ 
ate child, and after looking at Peter seriously 
for a moment, he threw his arms about his cous¬ 
in’s neck. 














50 


LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

“I am glad that you are going to be my 
brother!” he said. 

Peter would have liked to say something 
pleasant in return, but he was so touched that 
he could not speak. He hugged Maurice hard. 

“There! Now you know each other,” said 
Mr. Delsart. “Shall we have a big game of 
sheep and wolf? ” 

“Yes, yes!” shouted the children, who liked 
noisy games better than dances. 

In a twinkling the circle was formed. Peter 
was the wolf, and Maurice the sheep. 

Soon Peter was playing happily. He was no 
longer afraid. Here, as in the village where he 
had played marbles, the other children gathered 
about him. He had some quality that com¬ 
manded attention from children and grown-ups 
as well. 

Then came the birthday feast. The smaller 
children sat at little tables, the older ones stood, 
and all did justice to the good things that were 
served. 

Peter was by this time friendly with all the chil¬ 
dren. He was proud and held his head very 
high. 


LITTLE PRINCE CHARMING 51 
But as he passed a group of ladies who were 
chatting with Mrs. Delsart, he heard the words, 
“Oh, he is a little orphan that my husband 
rescued.” 

At once his pride fell. He hung his head, and 
tears glistened in his eyes. He was a sensible 
child, however, and he realized that his uncle’s 
wife had no reason for caring for him. But he 
made a firm vow that he would some day earn 
the love of his aunt, too. It would be hard, but 
if he failed it would not be his fault. 


CHAPTER V 


A New Life 

About two weeks after Maurice’s birthday 
party Peter wrote to the doctor at St. Nazaire. 
His uncle had already written him about Peter’s 
safe arrival, and now Peter must reply to the 
note that had been received in return. 

Peter did not find this task an easy one. He 
did not write so well as Maurice, who was ten 
months younger than he. 

Maurice was given lessons by a young tutor 
who came to the house every day. The tutor 
was very glad to have Peter for a pupil, too. 
Peter knew that he was behind Maurice in his 
studies, and he tried hard to learn, while Mau¬ 
rice was glad to go slowly for a few months un* 
til Peter caught up with him. 

But just now Peter was not thinking about his 
lessons; he was worrying about writing his 
letter. He was all alone in the big room which 
he shared with his cousin as a study and a bed¬ 
room. 


52 


A NEW LIFE 


53 

Children easily get used to new surroundings, 
especially if they are pleasant, but sometimes 
Peter wondered if he was dreaming a wonderful 
dream from which he should suddenly awake to 
find himself in rags, lost in the great world. His 
eyes traveled to the long windows that opened 
upon a terrace where they could play in summer, 
but which was now covered with snow. 

Then he looked steadily at the white paper 
before him. It was two o’clock, and Maurice 
had gone out with his mother. He would return 
at three for a lesson. The letter must be fin¬ 
ished in an hour so that they could work on 
their lessons together. 

Peter did not know how to write a fine letter, 
but he did his best, and this is what he wrote: 

Dear Doctor, 

I do not know how to write letters. This is 
the first one I have ever written, and I know you 
will laugh at it. But at least I should like to say 
that I thank you for all that you did for me. I 
often think of the evening when I ate dinner at 
your house and Mrs. Dubois sewed the silver 
pieces into my vest. Those pieces certainly 
saved my life! 


54 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

Every one here is very good to me. My uncle 
is not at home very often. I was surprised to find 
that he does not wear a robe. It seems that he 
wears one only in court. I should like to see him 
there! One day I saw his name in a newspaper, 
and I was very proud. 

I live with Maurice all the time. We like each 
other very much. I tell him all about St. Na- 
zaire and what I did there, and how I looked 
after the stock at the Pichon farm and helped 
the men in the fields. He thinks that is all very 
funny, but if he had been there he would not 
have thought it so funny. He was never hungry, 
and never wore a jacket without a penny in it! 

His mother doesn’t like to have me tell him 
about those things, but when we are together 
we have to talk about something, and I don’t 
know how to make up stories. Maurice makes 
them up often, and they are so funny! Maurice’s 
mother does not like me, but I suppose that is 
natural. I am afraid of her. She always wears 
beautiful clothes. 

Last night we were allowed to see her before 
she went out to a dinner party. Ah! It must 
be fun to be a lady and have such pretty things. 


A NEW LIFE 55. 

Maurice and I held each other’s hand and walked 
about her to see her dress better. My uncle was 
waiting with his hat in his hand. He acted tired. 
Perhaps he doesn’t like dinners and balls. 

“Ah! You are so beautiful, aunt!” I said. 

And she said, “ My, he is not so stupid after all.” 

Then my uncle said, “Come; we shall be late.” 

My aunt answered, “I will come when I get 
ready!” And she didn’t hurry at all. 

Finally they went out, and I heard one of the 
maids say, “Any one can see that she has a great 
fortune.” 

What do you suppose she meant? 

Well, I have covered two pages, and still I 
have not written a letter. I have said nothing 
but nonsense. When our tutor has taught me 
about letters, I will write you a good one. Until 
then at least you will know that I remember you 
and Mrs. Dubois and the children. 

Peter Delsart 

If you ever go to the old house, please tell 
Mary that I have her little doll. Maurice and I 
made a pretty little bed for it from a nut shell. 
Miss Nancy, Maurice’s governess, showed us 
how to make it. 


56 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

Peter may not have known how to write let¬ 
ters, but he had told the doctor just how he lived 
in his uncle’s home. He and Maurice were always 
together. Maurice would not know now how to 
get along without his cousin. They had games 
of all sorts between their lessons, and when the 
sun shone they played outdoors on the terrace. 

But the happiest times were when Mr. Del- 
sart found a chance to spend an hour with them. 
Then books were thrown aside, games were for¬ 
gotten, Maurice climbed up on his father’s 
knees, and Peter stood near. 

How they talked! Mr. Delsart knew how to 
talk with children — something that many 
grown-ups do not know how to do. Sometimes 
he scolded, but gently, for he knew that little 
boys cannot be perfect. 

One day the young tutor complained that 
Maurice was not attending to his lessons prop¬ 
erly, and Mr. Delsart said to his little son very 
seriously: 

“You are only a little boy now, Maurice, but 
what you do now you will probably do later. I 
am very much ashamed to find that my son is 
not doing me credit.” 


A NEW LIFE 57 

“I don’t like this kind of conversation,” said 
the little lad, making such a funny face that his 
father had to smile. 

“I don’t doubt that you would prefer a dif¬ 
ferent kind, but I must tell you when you hurt 
me.” 

“I won’t do it any more, Father dear. I will 
do my lessons as well as Peter does his. There! 
Are you happy again? Come; let’s play sol¬ 
diers, and you can tell me about Napoleon’s 
battles.” 

“Play! Play! That’s all you think of. When 
I was your age —” 

“All grown-ups say that — ‘ when I was your 
age! ’ Perhaps they can’t remember what they 
did when they were little. But I promise, Father, 
that I will do better! Peter has to catch up with 
me though, and I must wait for him.” 

“ He will catch up with you. He will pass you. 
You may be sure of that!” 

Mr. Delsart was silent for some time — he 
could not tell the children what he was thinking 
of. His son Maurice reminded him of another 
Maurice, Peter’s father, who, like his little name¬ 
sake, had been a charming, lovable child, but 


58 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

who had been too fond of pleasure. Thought¬ 
fully Mr. Delsart stroked Peter’s head. Peter 
looked at him, surprised, trying to understand 
what made his uncle so sad. But Mr. Delsart 
said only: 

“Love Maurice, my child. Love him more 
than yourself.” 

Much later Peter was to recall these words, 
which he did not now understand. 

His uncle did not give him time to ask for an 
explanation. He arranged the lead soldiers and 
put them through drills which delighted the two 
boys. They both thought it a pity that Mr. Del¬ 
sart had to spend so much time at court. 

The days that Mr. Delsart did not play with 
them were all alike: lessons with the tutor in the 
morning, a walk after lunch with Miss Nancy, 
more lessons, then dinner, for which they had 
to dress again. 

Usually Mr. Delsart worked in the library 
after dinner; and Mrs. Delsart, if she was not 
going out, read, or played games with Maurice, 
while Peter tried to amuse himself by looking 
at pictures. Peter disliked these evenings very 
much. His aunt never played with him. 


A NEW LIFE 59 



Peter Disliked These Evenings Very Much. His Aunt 
Never Played with Him 

He told himself that it was natural that she 
should not care for him, but he suffered just the 
same. Of course, he never thought of complain¬ 
ing. What could he complain of? But he often 
promised himself that when he grew up he would 
earn a great deal of money and pay back to his 
aunt all that he had cost her. This thought 
made him very serious — too serious for a child. 

One evening these thoughts tormented Peter 
while Maurice was chattering to his mother and 
telling her the little things he had done during 
the day. Peter’s name came very often to 
Maurice’s lips, and finally his mother pushed 
him from her lap. 









































































60 


LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

“How irritating you are with your ‘Peter 
this,’ ‘ Peter that! ’ Are you such a baby that 
you have to be led about by some one else all 
the time?” 

Mrs. Delsart was sorry the moment after she 
had spoken, but it was too late. Peter looked 
at his aunt pathetically, and two large tears fell 
upon the picture he was looking at. He was 
ashamed, and with his handkerchief he carefully 
wiped the page. He thought that his aunt would 
scold, but she did not. Then Peter said very 
gently: 

“Do you want me to go away? Mrs. Pichon 
said that perhaps you would not like me, that I 
might be in the way here, and she told me that 
I might always go back to the farm. Even in 
the winter there is plenty of work to be done 
there. Shall I go away? Later, when I am grown 
up, I will try to earn enough money to pay you 
back all that you have spent on me*.” 

Peter said this quietly, as though he was not 
surprised that they did not like him. But Mau¬ 
rice looked at him in astonishment; then he 
rushed upon him and threw his arms about Pe¬ 
ter's neck. 


A NEW LIFE 61 

“ I don’t want you to go away. What should 
I do without you? I shall go with you if you go 
to the Pichon farm.” 

Maurice shook with sobs, and it was only 
when his mother promised that Peter should not 
go away that he could be quieted. Then Mrs. 
Delsart turned to Peter and said: 

“I like children who act like children and do 
not talk about earning money and paying debts. 
It is true that it annoys me to hear ‘ Peter,’ 
‘ Peter,’ all the time, but that does not mean 
that I do not want you here. I am glad to have 
you stay with Maurice because he would be lonely 
without some one to play with. If you want me 
to love you, try to earn my love.” 

“I will try, aunt.” 

Peter spoke with such feeling, such a desire to 
be loved as Maurice was loved, that Mrs. Del¬ 
sart was touched. She hesitated a moment; 
then she laughed. 

“Well, well!” she cried. “Come to my arms. 
Who knows but that some day I shall think of 
you as Maurice’s brother? There, there, it’s all 
right! Run along to bed, both of you!” 


CHAPTER VI 


Vacation Plans 

Toward spring little Maurice was sick. There 
was nothing seriously wrong with his health, but 
he had a slight fever and felt very weak and 
tired. He was not able to study, and he lay in 
bed or sat in a large armchair all day. He 
wanted Peter near him always. 

“Have your lessons here where I can watch 
you, Peter,” he said. “You will have a good 
chance to catch up with me now. But don't 
learn too fast, or I shall have to catch up with 
you when I am better.” 

Mrs. Delsart never went out now. She stayed 
with Maurice all day. The two children chatted 
constantly, and Mrs. Delsart listened to them. 
She could not tell stories very well, but Peter 
could talk endlessly about things he had seen. 

Maurice liked best of all to listen to stories of 
the Pichon farm. He never tired of hearing 
about the great kitchen, the large pine dining 
table, and about Mrs. Pichon, who made cab- 
62 


VACATION PLANS 63 

bage soup which smelled so good. Then there 
were stories about the animals: the herds of 
cows and oxen; the little calves which followed 
their mothers about on long, gawky legs; the 
gentle, white lambs. And Peter would tell 
about the work in the fields in the warm sun or 
under the bright stars. All this amused Mau¬ 
rice more than his story books. 

Mrs. Delsart liked Peter a little better now. 
She knew that without him Maurice would be 
very lonely. 

“I think it is fun to be just a little ill,” said 
Maurice one day, looking at his companions. 

“I suppose you do, little loafer,” said his fa¬ 
ther fondly. “No lessons, no duties!” 

“Yes,” said Maurice, “it is pleasant not to 
have lessons for a while, but when I am better 
I will do them well, I promise you. But it is good 
to have you all sitting here, and not downstairs. 
I like to have Peter tell me about the farm. 
What a pity that you are a lawyer, Father! 
If we only had a big farm, with pigs and cows 
and chickens!” 

. “No, thank you,” laughed his mother. “I 
should not like to be a farmer’s wife!” 


64 


LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

“Oh, well, of course we can’t have one,” sighed 
Maurice. “No such luck.” 

Mr. Delsart thought for a moment, stroking 
his son’s thin white hands. Then he said: 

“ If you will eat everything that is brought to 
you and take all your medicine, perhaps we can 
show you a real farm. What do you say to my 
writing to Farmer Pichon and asking him to let 
you two boys visit him for the Easter holidays?” 

“Oh, will you do that, Father?” 

“No, no!” cried Mrs. Delsart. “You can’t 
put a delicate child who is just getting over an 
illness on a farm. Think what you are saying!” 

“I am thinking, my dear. I have talked it 
all over with the doctor. Of course, the weather 
is too severe now for Maurice to go to the farm, 
but in a month, at Easter time, if he will try to 
eat and get a little more strength —” 

“Mama,” cried Maurice with shining eyes, 
“I think I am hungry. May I have a boiled 
e gg ? ” 

Mrs. Delsart was happy to think that he would 
eat. She smiled gently. 

“You see,” said her husband. “Sick children 
sometimes know what will make them better.” 


VACATION PLANS 65 

From that moment the boys spoke of nothing 
but the Easter holidays. Maurice improved lit¬ 
tle by little. Soon he was up and about, and 
one day he asked to have a lesson with Peter, 
saying that he did not want to get behind in 
his studies. 

Mr. Delsart was very much pleased, and he 
said to Peter, “You see, my little man, how you 
have helped me.” 

You may believe that Peter was very happy 
at these words. 


CHAPTER VII 


At The Farm 

One beautiful April day a gentleman and two 
little boys got off the train at the railroad station 
at Amboise. Mr. Delsart had kept his promise. 
He was taking Maurice and Peter to the Pichon 
farm to spend their vacation. 

Farmer Pichon had had to be coaxed a little 
before he consented to receive the boys. He 
had never taken boarders, and his farm was a 
serious business, where every one worked hard 
and no one had time to bother with little city lads. 

But Peter had written a letter to Mrs. Pichon, 
who had always had a tender feeling for the 
starving child whose life she and her husband 
had saved. Peter promised that neither he nor 
his cousin would cause them any trouble. He 
reminded her that he knew all about farm life. 
He would work and so would Maurice, only 
Maurice not too hard, for he had been ill and was 
not yet very strong. 

Then Mrs. Pichon had realized that their 


66 


AT THE FARM 


67 



The Pichons Were Waiting in the Yard to Welcome' 
Their Guests 

board money would help her to build a larger 
henhouse. Her husband had considered this, too, 
for his chickens were well-thought-of in the coun¬ 
try. Then perhaps he might make arrangements 
to send these “city people” poultry, butter, and 
eggs regularly. 

The Pichons were waiting in the yard to wel¬ 
come their guests as Mr. Delsart and the boys 
stepped out of their cab. 

Mr. Delsart was very well pleased with the 
appearance of the farm. The house, low and 
rambling, was separated from the other farm 
buildings, which could be seen at a distance. 












68 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

Beautiful great trees shaded it. Chickens 
walked about the yard; a big dog barked a 
welcome. 

“How you have changed, Peter,” said Mrs. 
Pichon. “Ah, sir, you should have seen him 
when my husband and I carried him into the 
house. He was as white as a sheet. We were 
afraid that we could not bring him to. How at¬ 
tached we get to a person we have saved!” 

“How a person loves those who have saved 
him!” replied Peter, putting his arm about her 
neck. 

Maurice did not move a step away from Peter. 
He had never seen a farm before, and he was 
astonished at the great kitchen, the straw chairs, 
the herbs hanging from the ceiling, the enormous 
fireplace with a big kettle hanging over the fire. 
But he soon got used to his surroundings, and 
when Mrs. Pichon brought them bowls of creamy 
milk and huge slices of dark bread he thought it 
the best meal he had eaten for a long time. 

Mr. Delsart looked thoughtfully at his little 
son, who was still silent. 

“You know, Maurice, if you do not like the 
country so well as you expected to, you may 


AT THE FARM 69 

come home right away. I want you to be well 
and happy more than anything else in the world. 
Are you afraid to stay?” 

“No, Father. Peter is here. We shall have 
a good time. Only — only I shall have to get 
used to it.” 

Mr. Delsart turned to Peter. “You seem 
much older, Peter, than Maurice — I suppose 
because you have had to think for yourself. 
Try to be a ‘ little man ’ again. I entrust Mau¬ 
rice to your care. Remember that he is not so 
strong as you are. Do not let him get tired, and 
if he is not happy here, write to me at once. Do 
you understand?” 

“Yes, Uncle Peter. But we shall have a 
good time, I am sure.” 

An hour later Mr. Delsart, having looked over 
the rest of the farm, left them to their coun¬ 
try life. 

The weather was fine during the whole vaca¬ 
tion. There were only a few showers, and show¬ 
ers are nothing in the life of country people. 

By the second day Maurice had lost his timid¬ 
ity, and walked along fearlessly in the midst of a 
herd of cows. It seemed that the days did not 


70 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

begin early enough for him to do all that he 

wanted to do. 

The boys caused the Pichons no trouble. 
They played by themselves, and Peter, who had 
taken his uncle's words to heart, watched care¬ 
fully over Maurice. 

They could not help very much in the kind of 
work that the men were doing at this season of 
the year; so they romped about the farm. They 
were much interested in all the animals. There 
were flocks of downy yellow chickens. One hen 
had hatched some duck eggs, and the little duck¬ 
lings persisted in going into the water, much to 
the terror of their foster mother. 

Every morning they gathered the newly laid 
eggs, which Mrs. Pichon sent to the Paris 
markets. Then they had a little kitchen garden 
to care for, and no one else must touch it. They 
dug, planted, and weeded in great hope. They 
spent long hours in the warm spring sunshine 
and fresh, pure air, and every day they gained 
in weight. No one would have believed that 
Maurice had been sick. He had never been so 
happy, and he declared, to the great satisfaction 
of the farmer and his wife, that he did not under- 


AT THE FARM 71 

stand how any one would choose to live in the 
city if he could live on such a beautiful farm. 

But vacations do not last forever, and the 
time to go home came all too soon. Mr. Delsart 
was too busy to come for them; so Mrs. Delsart 
arrived at the farm early one fine morning. She 
looked at her son and was much pleased to 
see his bright eyes and firm, rosy cheeks. With 
tears of happiness in her eyes she turned to Mrs. 
Pichon. 

“Oh, I am so glad to meet you!” she said. 
“Maurice is the picture of health. If you had 
seen him two months ago! We were afraid we 
were going to lose him.” 

“I know how you must have felt, Madam,” 
replied Mrs. Pichon, thinking of her own little 
son, who had died. “And Peter,” she added. 
“Doesn’t he look well?” 

“Oh, yes. But Peter has not been ill.” 

Mrs. Delsart remembered that she had not 
yet spoken to Peter, and she kissed his forehead. 

Then they visited the farm, and Mrs. Delsart 
arranged to have some butter and eggs sent to 
her each week. 

F inall y they must say good-by. Mrs. Pichon 


72 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

felt very bad, for she had grown to love the two 
children. Just before they stepped into the cab 
which was to take them to the railroad station, 
she took Peter aside and said: 

“You know, Peter, if you are not happy with 
this great lady, come back to me. You seem to 
belong to me, almost. She puts on airs, this fine 
lady from Paris! She is not like your uncle. He 
is not so proud. Well, remember, my child.” 

“Thank you, Mama Pichon. I shall remem¬ 
ber. But perhaps my aunt will love me some 
day. We shall see!” 

And the little man climbed into the cab and 
sat beside his aunt. He and Maurice waved their 
handkerchiefs as long as they could see Mrs. 
Pichon standing in the yard. It had been the 
happiest vacation that either of the boys had 
ever spent. 


CHAPTER VIII 

At The Seashore 

Peter and Maurice found it hard to get back 
to their usual way of living — their regular les¬ 
sons, their walks with Miss Nancy. Peter was 
as restless as Maurice. He felt, more than 
Maurice, perhaps, the need of freedom, of fresh 
air, of being his own master. The young tutor 
found his pupils very inattentive. 

Mr. Delsart called Peter to account for this 
conduct, for he had always before found his 
nephew well-behaved. But Peter, after all, was 
only eleven years old, and little boys sometimes 
have naughty spells. So, instead of taking his 
uncle’s scolding in good part, he said to himself: 

“My uncle thinks he has bought my good be¬ 
havior. He thinks I have no right to be idle 
or inattentive. He pays me to be a model to 
Maurice.” 

But when he saw that Maurice was following 
his example — was not working, and wanted to 
play all the time — he realized that he must 

73 


74 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

change. One day he caught a curious, half- 
mocking, half-triumphant glance on Mrs. Del- 
sart’s face, and heard her say to her husband, 
“Well, he doesn’t seem to be doing very well — 
your little hero!” 

Mr. Delsart did not reply, but looked at Peter 
so sadly that Peter wanted to hurl himself into 
his uncle’s arms and promise to do better. His 
pride held him back; but he resolved to change, 
and he did his best to stop thinking about the 
Pichon farm. 

Maurice had a closet full of playthings that 
his parents and their friends had given him. 
There was everything from lead soldiers to me¬ 
chanical trains and steamboats — those expen¬ 
sive, complicated toys that often amuse the 
grown-ups who give them as much as the little 
ones who receive them. 

But what Maurice liked best — much to his 
mother’s astonishment — was the rounded lid 
of an old trunk. He made a sail by attaching a 
piece of cloth to a broomstick. Into the trunk 
lid he put two little stools and the sail, and he 
had a fine ship. 

The children would set sail solemnly, taking 



















































76 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

for provisions what was left of their lunch. The 
rocking of the curved lid seemed like the rock¬ 
ing of a boat on the waves of a strange ocean. 
Maurice would invent great adventures — once 
they met a whale who upset them with a flick 
of his enormous tail! Sometimes they landed 
on desert islands covered with tropical flowers, 
and birds with gorgeous plumage. Sometimes 
they explored savage countries and acted with 
great bravery. Their enemies would fall about 
them like lead soldiers. They freed enchanted 
princesses imprisoned in ivory towers a hundred 
feet high, and in triumph entered capital cities 
built of gold, silver, and precious stones. The in¬ 
habitants, clothed in purple, proclaimed them 
kings, and they proudly took possession of their 
new throne — just at the moment that the fa¬ 
miliar voice of Miss Nancy would call them from 
their heights to recite a lesson or to change their 
jackets for dinner. 

Peter could never make up stories himself, but 
he listened wide-eyed to his cousin, whose imag¬ 
ination had no limit. 

“How can you do it?” Peter would ask. 

“Oh, I don't know. It just comes to me.” 


AT THE SEASHORE 77 

“But,” insisted Peter, “our trunk lid doesn’t 
go an inch, and still we cross oceans — oceans 
that are not on the map, too!” 

“ What does that matter? We see them, don’t 
we? We see our islands, our cities of gold. We 
smell the flowers more than we smell Mother’s 
roses.” 

“Do you believe — ?” 

Peter was not convinced that he saw all these 
things and smelled the fragrance of make-be¬ 
lieve flowers. 

The weather became very warm. Mrs. Del- 
sart had no dinners or parties. July was near, 
and the city seemed stifling. The doctor wanted 
Maurice to go to the seashore; so the Paris house 
was closed and the Delsarts moved to a hotel at 
the beach. 

Miss Nancy had left the Delsart home to be 
married and live in London, but fortunately the 
children needed little care at the shore. They 
amused themselves all day running barefooted in 
the sand and came back to the hotel only for 
meals. Peter and Maurice were very proud of 
being trusted, and readily promised all that was 
asked of them. 


78 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

Life at the seashore was quite different from 
life in the farm, but it was very pleasant. At 
the bathing hour all was noise and confusion. 
There were shouts and cries. Groups ran into 
the water hand in hand, splashing and laughing. 

It was very amusing to see the men in bathing 
suits rowing little boats which danced on the 
waves. These little boats sometimes tipped over, 
throwing their occupants into the water. But 
no one minded. They would right the boats and 
climb in again, and the sun soon dried their bath¬ 
ing suits. 

After the bathing and lunch, the children were 
free to do as they pleased. Sometimes they sat 
in the shade and read a thrilling book; some¬ 
times they played on the beach with other chil¬ 
dren who were staying at the same hotel. Peter 
was the oldest, and he was usually the leader. 
He would direct the building of great sand cities 
which were, alas, only too soon destroyed by 
the waves. 

One day it was very hot, and Peter and Mau¬ 
rice each took a book and went to look for a 
shady place. 

On each side of the beach, cliffs jutted out 


AT THE SEASHORE 79 

into the sea. On the tops of the cliffs there were 
great rocks which furnished beautiful, thick 
shade; down below there were little coves cov¬ 
ered with golden sand. 

Peter found a satisfactory spot, but Maurice 
wanted to go farther. 

“Come, Peter,” he cried. “I see a little cove. 
It is like a room in a fairy palace with a carpet 
of powdered gold. It must be cool down there.” 

“No, no. You know we must not go into 
those places — we couldn’t get out after the tide 
came in a little. No, stay here. This is all right.” 

Peter had chosen a shady spot. He lay flat 
on his stomach, his hands thrust into his curly 
hair, his book open before him; and he became 
immediately absorbed in the wonderful story of 
Siribad the Sailor, which he was reading for the 
first time. 

Maurice’s book was not so interesting. At 
first he threw himself down beside Peter to 
read, too, but he was not comfortable. He 
wanted to talk, but Peter was so interested in 
his story that he paid little attention to his 
cousin. Maurice thought of going back to the 
hotel for a different book; then he decided to go 


80 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

to look at the little cove which was like a fairy 
room. He would not climb down to it, but he 
could at least look at it. 

He rose, glanced at his cousin, who was more 
absorbed than ever; then he started to walk 
along the cliff. 

Peter was reading of the time when Sinbad 
and his companions, after the shipwreck, landed 
on a little black island, or what they thought was 
an island. They made a fire and quickly found 
that they were on a huge whale, which plunged 
and hurled the unfortunate sailors into the sea. 
At this unexpected turn of affairs Peter laughed 
aloud. 

It seemed that something answered his laugh, 
something like a cry of terror. Peter leaped to 
his feet; it had sounded like Maurice’s voice. 
He looked about him. Maurice had disappeared. 

Then his senses cleared like lightning. He 
knew what that cry meant and where it came 
from. He raced along the top of the cliff. 


CHAPTER IX 

The Accident 

Peter looked anxiously over the edge of the 
cliff. There on the sand below lay the little fig¬ 
ure, white and motionless. Peter called him, 
but there was no reply. Was he dead? 

No one answered Peter’s cries. To get help he 
would have to go back to the hotel. It was not 
likely that there would be any one on the cliffs 
on such a hot day. 

The tide was coming in. Peter had often 
watched it creep up the beach, wave after wave. 
Now he noticed with terror that the last wave 
had reached almost to Maurice’s feet. In ten 
minutes the little cove would be filled with water, 
and the child would be picked up by the great 
waves and carried out into the sea. Peter knew 
that it would take longer than ten minutes to go 
to the hotel and back. No, it was not to be 
thought of. 

Having decided what to do, Peter did not hesi¬ 
tate a moment. There was only one chance of 
81 


82 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

saving his cousin — he must go down after him 

and carry him beyond reach of the water. 

He began to climb down. He must be care¬ 
ful. It wouldn’t do to tremble or to lose his 
footing. He tried to think of nothing but the 
best place to find a foothold. Along the upper 
part of the cliff there were jagged places for one’s 
feet, but soon the descent became much more 
difficult. The pieces of rock that stuck out were 
farther and farther apart. It was almost like 
trying to climb down the wall of a house. Peter 
clung so hard with his hands that they began to 
bleed. 

But he thought only of reaching Maurice. 
Once he happened to look down below him, and 
he got very dizzy. He fixed his eyes firmly on 
the rock before him and rested a moment to mas¬ 
ter his feelings. 

Then he crept down slowly but surely. It 
seemed to be a little easier now. He found a lit¬ 
tle platform of rock where he could put both his 
feet at once, and he stopped and looked down to 
see how much farther he had to go. His heart 
almost stood still. He was a considerable dis¬ 
tance above the ground, and from this point 


THE ACCIDENT 83 

down there was not a single place where he could 
put his foot. How could he reach Maurice? 

He looked at his cousin and cried out in hor¬ 
ror. Already the water was licking Maurice’s 
feet. Peter judged the distance which separated 
him from the little beach. There was only one 
thing to do. He jumped into space and landed 
on the sand with a thud, stunned, but safe and 
sound. Quickly he picked himself up and ran 
to Maurice. 

To take the little lad in his arms, carry him 
away from the water, and place him tenderly on 
dry sand was the work of a few seconds. Peter 
saw that in falling Maurice had broken his left 
arm, but that he was alive — his heart was beat¬ 
ing, and he was breathing faintly. 

But what were they to do now? Peter ran 
along the little space still left by the tide, trying 
to think of some way of getting help. He re¬ 
membered their make-believe adventures in the 
old tr unk lid, when they had played that they 
were shipwrecked sailors and had waved their 
handkerchiefs for help. 

He saw that at the end of the cliff there was a 
fringe of rocks that jutted half out of the water. 


84 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

If he could crawl out on those rocks he could be 
seen from the open sea, where there might be a 
boat or two. It was not easy to creep out on the 
slippery rocks, and more than once Peter fell 
and scraped his knees and hands. But at last he 
reached the end of the little rocky wall and stand¬ 
ing up tall, he waved his handkerchief and 
shouted with all his might. 

No one came, and no one came. Peter kept 
on waving and shouting. What if Maurice 
should die before some one rescued them! 

Finally Peter saw a boat. The two persons in 
it had seen him and soon were rowing up beside 
the rock where he stood. 

“What is the matter, my child?” asked a 
man's voice. 

“Oh, sir, come quickly! Maurice! He is dead! 
He fell from the top of the cliff!” 

Peter grew faint. 

“Let me take him,” said a woman's voice 
gently. 

The lady took Peter in her arms and wrapped 
him in an old coat that was in the boat. Then 
her husband rowed to the spot where Maurice 
was lying. He leaped to the sand and gently 


THE ACCIDENT 85 

picked up the injured child, who began to moan 
a little. 

“How did this happen?” asked the young 
man. 

“Oh, sir,” replied Peter, “I was reading in 
the shade up there, and suddenly I heard a cry. 
Maurice had left me. He had wanted to come 
down into the cove, but I had refused. I knew 
at once what had happened. I looked down and 
saw him here. There wasn’t time to go back to 
the hotel; so I climbed down.” 

“Climbed down? How?” 

“Oh, over there,” said Peter. “It is not so 
hard as it looks.” 

The young man placed Maurice gently on 
some cushions in the bottom of the boat and 
rowed back to the hotel landing. 

A crowd of people had gathered on the veranda. 
Mrs. Delsart, worried because the children had 
not returned, was about to set out to look for 
them when she saw them coming. Maurice 
seemed lifeless in the arms of the young man. 
“He is dead!” He is dead!” screamed Mrs. 
Delsart. 

“Not at all, madam. See! He is coming to. 


86 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

But he is in pain, for he has broken his 

arm.” 

The young man did his best to calm the ter¬ 
rified mother. He put the child on a bed and 
asked where Mr. Delsart was. He arranged 
everything. A telegram was sent to Mr. Del¬ 
sart so that he could take a train from Paris at 
once. A doctor was called. Then the young 
couple went away, after hugging Peter, whom 
no one else had noticed at all. 

Peter looked at his cousin, who was trembling 
and moaning. Suddenly Mrs. Delsart remem¬ 
bered Peter. She turned on him furiously. 

“Go away from me! You are to blame for 
this. You led him into danger. It is your fault 
that he is injured. If he dies I shall blame you. 
Ever since you came there has been trouble. 
Ever since you entered the house, Maurice has 
not cared so much for me. He has thought only 
of playing with you. You have taken my place. 
I hate you! Go away from me!” 

Peter stared at her in terror. He could not 
find voice to say, “I saved him.” He could 
only follow, with frightened eyes, the movements 
of this woman who seemed to hate him so much. 


THE ACCIDENT 87 

He went away, crushed with a sense of unfair¬ 
ness against which he did not know how to de¬ 
fend himself. 

Maurice’s bed had been carried into his moth¬ 
er s room. Peter took refuge in the next room, 
which he had shared with his cousin. He sat 
forlornly in a comer, too unhappy to care what 
became of him. He had not deserved his aunt’s 
anger. He had done his best. 

Through the thin wall he could hear steps in 
the next room. The doctor must be there, and 
he must be hurting Maurice, for the poor 
child was moaning. The sound made Peter 
cry. 

He had a headache, and he was terribly un¬ 
happy. The more he thought of his aunt’s un¬ 
fairness the more he suffered. It was not that 
he praised himself for saving Maurice — that 
was only natural — but he loved Maurice as a 
brother, and to be sent away from the room 
where he lay suffering was almost more than he 
could bear. He was angry with himself for not 
saying something to Mrs. Delsart, for being so 
afraid of her. Then he tried to understand why 
Maurice’s mother was so cmel to him: she saw 


88 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

her son injured, perhaps dying, and she imag¬ 
ined that it was Peter’s fault, he supposed. 

Thinking of these things, the poor child 
nodded; still sitting in his chair, he leaned his 
head against the wall and dozed. No one 
thought of him. He remained alone through 
the long, gloomy hours. 

When he awoke, it was very dark. Again he 
heard a noise in the next room — he thought 
that he recognized his uncle’s voice. He stood 
up, very painfully, for he felt ill all over. His 
head throbbed; his arms and legs ached. Each 
movement was torture. 

Gently he opened the door. A ray of light 
shone into the corrider, and he knew that the 
door into Maurice’s room was open. He crept 
quietly along the wall and drew back into the 
shadows when his aunt came out crying. Then 
he ventured a little nearer and looked in. 

His uncle was standing at Maurice’s bed. In a 
comer a nurse and the doctor were preparing 
bandages and other things. Peter started with 
joy when he heard Maurice cry, “ I want Peter. 
I want Peter.” 

“Here I am.” 


THE ACCIDENT 89 

Peter walked softly to the side of the bed and 
took Maurice’s hand. 

“Put this child out,” said the great surgeon 
from Paris. “I have sent the mother away, and 
now they have let him in.” 

“Go away, Peter,” said Mr. Delsart. “You 
mustn’t stay here.” 

Tears came to Peter’s eyes. 

“I don’t want him to go away. I want him 
to stay,” cried the little patient. 

“Sir, I promise to be very quiet. I will not 
say a word. I’ll only hold his hand and give 
him courage.” 

The surgeon looked at Peter and in a differ¬ 
ent tone said, “You may stay, my boy.” 

All the time that they were setting the poor 
broken arm, Peter did not flinch. He held 
Maurice’s hand. Once Maurice screamed at the 
pain, and Peter felt himself getting very weak. 

“He is going to faint,” said the surgeon, who 
had finished his task. 

“No, sir, no. Maurice needs me.” 

“It’s all over, my little man. Your brother 
will not suffer any more.” 

The surgeon took them for brothers. Peter 
was pleased. 


90 LITTLE PETER'S TASK 

“Mrs. Delsart may come in, now.” 

When Peter heard these words, he kissed his 
cousin, who no longer needed him, and quietly 
left the room, just in time to avoid meeting his 
aunt. 

It must be that his uncle, too, thought him to 
blame for the accident. But Peter did not have 
the strength to worry about what they thought of 
him. He could hardly drag himself along. He 
was hot and cold by turns. Chills ran over his 
body. Never before had he felt so strange. 

He was alone, quite alone in the world. The 
image of his mother came clearly to his troubled 
mind — his mother whom he sometimes forgot, 
he thought with shame, in the midst of his new 
surroundings. But now all the other pictures 
faded while she became clearer and clearer. He 
forgot his uncle and his aunt and her cruel words. 
He even forgot Maurice. 

He threw himself on his bed, but he could not 
rest. The pillow and the covers seemed to bum 
him. He tossed and turned, and repeated over 
and over again, 

“Mama, Mama — my dear, dear Mama!” 


CHAPTER X 


Brothers 

Early the next morning the young woman who 
had helped to save the two boys knocked at the 
Delsarts’ door and inquired for Maurice. 

“Come in,” said Mr. Delsart happily, “and 
see for yourself that he is resting comfortably. 
I don’t know how we can ever thank you enough 
for what you did — you and your husband.” 

“Oh, we did very little. It is not to my hus¬ 
band and me that you owe thanks.” 

“To whom, then?” asked Mr. Delsart. 

“Why, to his cousin, to little Peter!” 

“How is that?” demanded Mr. Delsart. “I 
understood that Peter was the cause — without 
meaning to be, of course — of this terrible ac¬ 
cident.” 

“He has not told you then?” 

“No,” said Mr. Delsart uneasily, recalling his 
gruffness of the night before. 

Then the young woman told the whole story, 
and in conclusion she said, “Where is he now? I 
should like to talk with him.” 

91 


92 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

“The fact is that in all the confusion we have 
not noticed him,” replied Mr. Delsart. “ He held 
Maurice’s hand while his cousin’s arm was being 
set. Then he disappeared.” 

“Well, Peter is old enough to put himself to 
bed,” said Mrs. Delsart. 

' Mr. Delsart had hurried into the next room, 
and at his startled exclamation the two women 
ran after him. 

Poor Peter, still dressed in his wet clothes, was 
lying across his bed. His head turned feverishly 
from side to side. He did not recognize his uncle 
or his aunt. He moaned again and again, 
“Mama, my little Mama.” 

When the doctor came, he said that Peter was 
a very sick boy. 

In the days that followed, Mrs. Delsart did 
not leave Peter’s bedside. She was quite 
changed. Peter’s own mother could not have 
been more devoted. 

Sometimes Peter’s mind would clear for a mo¬ 
ment. He felt his aunt’s presence; he followed 
her movements with his eyes, usually not recog¬ 
nizing her, but happy to feel a cool, gentle hand 
on his hot brow. Once he called her “Mama!” 


BROTHERS 93 

“Yes, I promise, I will be your mother always. 
You shall see!” 

Mr. Delsart had forgotten all about his Paris 
business. He thought only of the two boys. 

There came a day when Peter was so ill that 
the doctor feared that he might not get better. 
Maurice, who had slipped into the room, heard 
what was said. He threw himself at the side of 
the bed and sobbed: 

“Don’t die, Peter. Stay with me. What 
should I do without you? Peter, answer me.” 

Peter seemed to listen, as though he heard a 
familiar voice from a great distance, and he 
stopped tossing. With a burning hand, he 
touched Maurice’s neck. 

Peter did not die, but his illness lasted a long 
time. His moments of reason became more fre¬ 
quent, but his head was not yet quite clear — the 
affairs of his real life and the horrible things 
which had been haunting his poor brain were 
strangely mixed. 

Once Mr. Delsart heard him say something 
about a debt that he ought to pay. He seemed 
to be talking with his mother, saying that he 
was doing his best but that it was very hard. 


. 94 LITTLE PETER’S TASK 

“My poor Peter, don't worry," said his uncle, 
soothingly, “We are quits." 

The word “quits" reached the child's under¬ 
standing. A radiant smile lighted up his face, 
so thin now that it seemed hardly larger than 
that of a baby. He was quite content; he kept 
repeating, “Quits, quits. We are quits. Mama, 
we are quits. Do you hear, Mama? We are 
quits, quits." 

When it was known at the hotel that the little 
boy who had saved his cousin at the risk of his 
own life, was going to get better, there was great 
joy. He belonged to them all, and the children, 
in whose games he had been leader, brought him 
their playthings, and flowers that they had 
gathered in the fields. He was surprised by so 
much attention. The young couple whose boat 
had come into the little cove in the nick of time, 
called often to see him. But Peter would never 
speak of his adventure. It was nothing, he 
said. 

He was too weak to talk much, but he enjoyed 
having the family about him. Mrs. Delsart 
rarely left him. She did not go about now with 
the fine ladies who were at the hotel. Peter was 


BROTHERS 


95 



The Children Brought Him Their Playthings. 


afraid that he was taking too much of her time, 
but his aunt did not seem to think so. On the 
contrary, she had never been so gay. She told 
funny stories and made everybody laugh. Her 
husband seemed happy, too. Peter was almost 
afraid to get well, for fear this new happiness 
would not last. 

One day he learned that there was going to be 
a big picnic in the country, but that the Delsarts 
had refused to go and leave him. He said to 
Mrs. Delsart: 

“Aunt, I am almost well now. You mustn’t 
spend all your time here with me. When I was 
very sick, perhaps it was all right, but now that 




















96 


LITTLE PETER’S TASK 


I am better, I am afraid that I am stealing your 
good times.” 

“My dear little Peter, you have some foolish 
ideas! When you had fever you called me 
‘ Mama, my little Mama.’ Keep on calling me 
that if you want to please me. I am no longer 
your aunt — lam your mother. You saved my 
son, and you have given me another, too. And 
I love my two sons equally. Do you under¬ 
stand?” 

“Oh, yes, yes, I understand.” 

Peter had succeeded in doing what had 
seemed impossible — he had won his aunt’s love. 

Maurice danced with joy, crying: 

“I haven’t a cousin any more, but I have a 
brother! We are Peter and Maurice Delsart — 
two brothers, aren’t we?” 

Mr. Delsart took his nephew’s hand, and 
adopted Peter as his son. He said only a few 
words, but they were words that filled little 
Peter’s heart with pride and happiness: 

“Quits, my son, we are quits.” 








































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